


Ice Spikes

by discoballDust



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hyotei - Freeform, M/M, No tennis, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2020-09-01 19:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discoballDust/pseuds/discoballDust
Summary: Hyotei Gakuen High School's boys volleyball team has turned a new leaf, and they may have built the perfect team. They're indestructible! Or they will be, as soon as they figure out the court dynamic.They have all the ingredients: a genius setter, a physics-defying libero, a manager with an internal timer, Atobe, too many trick serves to shake an icicle at, mountain-boys at the net, a resting bitch face to make kids cry, and some great, great hair.Surely with all the young talent, they'll figure something out.(Volleyball AU. Everything is the same, except they're in high school, and it's volleyball, and there aren't 200 members.)





	1. Chapter 1

**1 Oshitari**

“Well,” Atobe clapped his hands with a big smug smile, shoe squeaks already echoing across the gym as nets were set up. He said what the other second years were thinking, but respectfully letting him say:

“Now that  _ they’re _ gone, let’s win Nationals.”

Oshitari smiled to himself and clapped, Shishido and Gakuto, cupping their mouths, whooped in deep voices. The first years clapped politely, probably a little perturbed by the blatant disrespect for their graduated senpai.

Shishido and Gakuto set up the last net, Oshitari brought out the ball basket, and Atobe stood in the middle of the court, commanding, waiting. The first years stood awkwardly. Jirou came in stretching his arms, yawning. They didn’t wait for anyone else.

Oshitari stood closest to Atobe. “Captain?” He prompted quietly. Atobe cracked a grin.

“First years! This is Hyotei’s high school volleyball team. As you can see, there are no third years on our team. I am your captain, Atobe Keigo.” Even Shishido had to agree to that, eventually.

“You are all lucky to have me for the next two years, as well as the other second years. We don’t depend on seniority anymore, so if you have the skills, you play. We are here to win, and we will.”

More clapping. Someone would have to explain last years situation to the first years. Maybe Taki, if only he was here. Oshitari wondered when the others would notice his absence.

“Atobe–uh,  _ Captain _ .” Gakuto grinned. “Where’s Taki?”

“Here,” the familiar voice said casually, in school uniform, looking at a binder as he walked in.

“I’m not playing this year.”

“What?!” Shishido was the only one with hair longer than Taki’s and it flipped dramatically with his head, probably out of its own respect.

“Haginosuke’s manager.” 

They all turned to Atobe, then to each other, and then to Taki. He looked up at them like he didn't understand why it was a big deal.

“My nails were busted and my ankle kept getting twisted. This is better for all of us.” They had to know he would do a good job. Taki already knew how fast everyone served, how much muscle they gained, what they should eat– the idea seemed so obvious, now.

Atobe deemed the matter settled. “Let’s begin.”

The boys’ volleyball gym had four courts, though typically they usually only used two, and plenty of extra floor space. It was one gym of many on campus and beautifully fitted with nets, gorgeous polished wooden floors, equipment, seating, a  _ weight room– _ all of the highest quality. Atobe, or his family perhaps, invested quite a bit in Hyotei Academy, and the sports facilities were not neglected their share. Even the “locker room” was more like a nice lounge. And it was. a nice place to lounge. Atobe had it specially updated to celebrate the senpai’s graduation.

For serve practice, everyone grabbed a ball and distributed themselves on either side of Court 1 at the baseline. Then everyone served, simultaneously, over and over. Since the balls fly back and forth, after you serve another ball lands near you, so you pick it up and serve again– an efficient process, and one of the most fun parts of practice. 

This was only after warm up jogging, stretching, and drills, of course. The first years were happy to finally touch a ball.

“Jirou.”

“Mmm. Yup.”

“You can’t sleep through serve practice.”

Shishido kicked him (gently) over and over until he stood up from the bleachers. It was the only way.

“Akutagawa Jirou,” Oshitari was kind enough to inform the puzzled first years standing next to him. “Watch him serve.”

Jirou yawned and grabbed a ball from the floor sleepily, bouncing it a few times. His eyes sharpened when he held out the ball before him like an archer, he tossed and jumped off one foot to hit it. It didn’t look too strange–the ball flew in a round arc toward the middle of the other court. It was an easy return by all estimations, but when it hit the ground it was only 20cm from the net.

“Oh, wow,” one of them whispered. He was very tall for a first year, probably Ootori, of the few he’d heard about. Oshitari wasn’t going to be the tallest on the team after all–he was significantly shorter than both Ootori and Kabaji. Blockers, for sure. Good. They needed more height on this team. 

Oshitari looked to the silent mushroom kid who nodded at Ootori and tapped him forward.

“Ootori-kun has a nice serve too, senpai,” he deadpanned. He was drier than Oshitari at his dryest. They needed more of that too.

Oshitari heard Ootori whisper something as he tossed the ball, eyebrows furrowed, and felt the wind from his serve as it was smacked through the air at a great height. It slammed instantly against the other court with a boom and the entire gym fell silent and still. Shishido broke the quiet with a loud whistle from the other side. “That  _ is  _ quite a serve,” Oshitari mumbled.

_ “Dammit.”  _ Ootori shook his head quietly. “It was out.”

The others looked at each other. It was so fast that none of them noticed where the ball landed. It was still enough to leave an impression, and within seconds Jirou had descended upon him with excitement and admiration. 

“What about you? Any special serve?” Oshitari asked the other first year.

**2 Hiyoshi**

Hiyoshi shifted under his senpai’s studying gaze and deep accent. He didn’t sign up to be analyzed on the first day, but he wasn’t worried. Hiyoshi had been scrutinized by men far scarier than a 16-year-old volleyball player. 

_ No stage fright. _ Inhale, toss, hit, straight behind,  _ just like striking _ . The serve had no spin, wobbling through the air, and landed in a surprising spot.

Oshitari nodded and raised an eyebrow. “Floater, very nice… Interesting form.” He turned to walk away but Hiyoshi felt cheated.

“What about you senpai, any special serve?”

Oshitari picked the ball up as if that was his plan all along, and maybe it was. He had no expression, as if he hadn’t heard Hiyoshi at all– but they both knew better. The senpai with stupid sports goggles didn’t seem like he missed much.  _ Just wear contacts! _

Oshitari tossed his volleyball casually, jumped, and smacked the ball to the other side hard and beautifully, landing it right before the left baseline corner.  _ Damn _ . Hiyoshi so badly wanted him to be mediocre.

Neither of them said much after that. Hiyoshi winced after messing up his floaters a few times, but Oshitari didn’t seem to care. He just casually tossed, jumped, and executed perfect serves, one after another. 

Hiyoshi may not be better than him now, but he would be.  _ Gekokujo _ .

“Hey, uh, Ootori-kun,” a shout from the other side stopped their tosses.

Ootori froze, Hiyoshi knew his nerves were still bad from messing up that first serve. ”Senpai?”

Ponytail senpai waved him over. He took him to practice serves at the other, empty court– probably so that his ridiculous serves wouldn’t hit (or at least scare) people. Hiyoshi noticed that fewer balls flew this way.

Upon realizing this, Ootori apologized profusely and insisted he retrieve his own balls and serve on the court alone to avoid hurting anyone. The second year shook his head and served on the other side and they continued, sending balls back and forth. 

“Ponytail isn’t afraid of getting hit,” Hiyoshi noted. He wasn’t sure why he said anything, it wasn’t like him to openly comment to strangers, but Oshitari made it feel normal.

“No,” Oshitari sighed. “Shishido fears nothing.”

Atobe and one other player weren’t serving. Taki the manager was tossing balls in an open courtless section of the gym. The ten minutes of serve practice were almost up, but between the balls flying back and forth over the net nobody seemed to notice the circus act going on.

Oshitari started watching him between each serve, which is how Hiyoshi noticed the libero practicing in the first place. Taki and Atobe threw balls at him simultaneously. Well, Atobe spiked them, Taki was tossing them halfheartedly in random directions.

He waited for Oshitari to say something about him, but the thought was interrupted when Oshitari asked if Kabaji’s serve was any good. Hiyoshi just gave him a look.  _ Don’t play stupid question games, smartass megane senpai.  _ Kabaji’s serve was as powerful as he looked.

Hiyoshi’s middle school team didn’t have a libero, so this was his first witnessing. The guy was tiny, but he didn’t dash from ball to ball. He hovered. He jumped laterally, only centimeters off the ground, for  _ meters _ , and returned the first ball right to the basket. He didn’t  _ land _ on his feet, he pushed back off the ground as soon as they hit it, in the opposite direction, landing on his stomach to stop Atobe’s spike. It bounced straight off his hand and up.

“Shit!” the libero squawked, catching attention. Atobe shook his head at him as the boy fumbled, sneakers squeaking as he tried to get out of the way, out from under the falling ball. He stood up and waved his hand in apology.

“You can do better than that, Gakuto,” he heard Atobe tease him over the serves.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Oshitari murmured behind Hiyoshi, terrifying him.

“How can he possibly do better than that? He shouldn’t have been able to save two balls up in a single movement, sending them both into court. An amazing feat in its own right. I could probably have avoided tripping over him and set it, but… If only he had rolled out of the way, I would set it perfectly and Atobe would spike it and we’d have a point, for certain.”

“That’s...”  _ Ridiculous.  _ Hiyoshi scoffed.

Oshitari chuckled. “He’s the best. An effective libero, and with good aim, the cherry on top.” He frowned. “No pun intended.”

_ Pun? _ Hiyoshi thought.  _ Oh.  _ His hair color. The libero’s head really did look like a dark cherry bouncing around.

“Times up! Balls back in 15 seconds. Suicides!”

_ Fuck. _

**3 Atobe**

By the end of practice, the new kids seemed to have a better idea of what to expect in the years to come.

The second years already knew. Atobe smiled at the gym as it was cleaned and picked up, nets folded amongst positive chatter. Promising. They had a good team. They would be even better after the new coach arrived next week.

Three first years stood out. Kabaji, of course, but Atobe already knew that. The tall kid with the ‘scud serve’. Good blocker, too. And the other one… He had an interesting looking float serve. He was consistent. Competent in returns, spiking, dashing. He was quiet and serious and maybe a little grumpy, but he was very good at volleyball. Kabaji, Ootori, and Hiyoshi. 

Gakuto was amazing as always. He was truly their saving grace, but they had to be careful not to remind him. He got distracted when he was cocky. Even then, he was a miracle worker. If there was a better libero in the country, he’d be surprised, and nothing ever surprised Atobe.

Mukahi Gakuto (Gakuto as almost everyone called him) had no experience as a libero until their former captain made him one last year. It wasn’t out of respect for his volleyball, because the senpai didn’t care, but Gakuto could jump and he was small. It was an obvious course of action, and Gakuto delivered far beyond expectations.

_ How can you defeat a team that never lets the ball hit the ground? _

Atobe was new to Hyotei their first year but Shishido, Gakuto, Jirou, and Taki all stepped up from Hyotei’s middle school. Another new kid showed up their first year, as well. Oshitari Yuushi. Tall, glasses, cool. Osakan. Thick accent, sort of creepy in a graceful Casanova way. Girls loved him. Not as much as they loved Atobe, of course. The year before, the senpai and their shitty setter (he wasn’t that bad, but he was a bad alternative) held Oshitari back. It was stupid how the uncomplaining volleyball genius watched from the sidelines as their senpai made idiotic mistakes. 

Atobe could set well, and he wasn’t one to consider that he was inferior to anyone (it was rarely true). But Oshitari might better. Not at volleyball overall, of course. He was good, no doubt, a valuable all around player. But as a setter, Oshitari was  _ brilliant. _ You never knew what that expressionless bastard was thinking. He was a genius. Technically skilled, precise, bored almost with his talent. It was pretty clear Atobe was the first person Oshitari had ever met that was  _ better  _ than him. 

Shishido. Tenacity personified. Argumentative, combative as hell until Atobe proved his worth (and still, for some reason, he had respected the senpai). He was all around skilled, fast to spike, fast to return, fast to scare the living hell out of their opponents with his sheer intensity and default angry look. He and Gakuto kept Jirou “in line”. Even the senpai last year let Jirou hang around. He slept most of practice, but for a pinch server he was indisposable. Atobe was the only player who had returned his serve. It might have involved luck.

Taki was good, but if he hadn’t quit, Hiyoshi would have taken his spot. It was better that he stepped down on his own, and they both agreed he was manager material. The sport was getting too serious for him and he wasn’t interested in the growing physical demands. He had talent keeping track of everything, though. He already knew everything about them all.

Atobe was satisfied. This was his team. They were destined for victory.


	2. Chapter 2

**4 Oshitari**

Oshitari hung around after practice, trying to figure out a way into Gakuto, Shishido, and Jirou’s animated conversation. These three had been friends since infancy. 

It was going better than the year before. For some reason Atobe didn’t have issues with personal boundaries and got away with inserting himself into any situation, but that was far from Oshitari’s style.

He never had this problem in class, with school mates. It wasn’t even Shishido’s intimidation that stopped him. In fact, Shishido was comfortable bringing Oshitari in if the topic wasn’t an inside joke, which it _ always _ seemed to be. Oshitari only slid in with a low comment of his own if it was on a general subject, or if it was about volleyball.

Not what Gakuto’s brother did that annoyed his mom. Oshitari didn’t know those people.

So he skirted around the edge, checking his phone, pretending he had any reason to be standing there other than social pining.

“Oy, Yuushi!”

_ Yuushi. _That still felt weird, but not bad weird.

**5 Last Year**

It happened a while back, before they were second years.

One time Shishido even elbowed Gakuto after he said “Yuushi,” he still couldn’t believe Gakuto started calling Oshitari by his first name. “_What? He said I could!” _

“Still,” Shishido said. “It’s _ Oshitari_. You aren’t even friends.”

“His name is too long! I had to get his attention!”

Oshitari remembered that game, the first the senpai watched from the outside, the first _ they _ played without them. Just the 6 of them, including Taki. It was an unofficial game against another school’s team (also without their graduating senpai), and it was an important match. Their first match as _ their _ team.

The ball hit Shishido’s hand on a block, it went _ flying _ behind the court. No way would Gakuto catch it, but he flew too. He flipped and caught with his forearm, whacking it midair before landing flat on his ass, almost all the way back to the wall. Oshitari watched in desperation, _ even if he got it toward us, could we hit it? _

Everyone scattered toward Gakuto except Oshitari, who stayed by the net.

It happened so fast. How Gakuto sensed where everyone was, he had no idea. Maybe he hadn’t, and he just knew where Oshitari would be.

Before he even made contact with the ball he yelled, “YUUSHI!” 

Time slowed. In a line straight toward the net, passing all of their teammates, the ball soared. Oshitari followed basic instinct. Barely jumping in time, by some miracle his hand connected and that beautiful smack of ball from his hand, followed by the even more beautiful sound of it slamming against the court.

“In!”

“Did the.. did the setter just spike that?”

“The _ setter? _Did you see that guy hit it all the way over here?”

After that point, the 6 of them might as well have won the game. They did, later, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

The look of shock on everyone’s faces, the shouting, the cheering, the ref urging them to continue playing– It was impossible!   
But not for them. A team of first year high school students against a team of second years, their first game together of the new season.

It felt like destiny.

“Sorry I called you by your name,” Gakuto said afterwards. “I panicked. Oshitari had too many syllables.”   
He scratched his head with a sense of awkward shame.

Oshitari shook his head and laughed, he _ laughed _ in awe. “Well I think now you _ have _to call me Yuushi.” The team agreed- it was a good luck charm. But only Gakuto dared.

Of course, that happened last school year. They weren’t best friends or particularly close. Oshitari and Gakuto were just teammates who made the best play of all time.

Oshitari couldn’t stop thinking about it.

___________

Gakuto felt weird around Oshitari. He was so _ cool _ . He would be leaning against a locker on his phone, and everyone would say hi to him. Gakuto tried to, but he was always interrupted by someone who beat him to it. All the girls in his class talked about how hot Oshitari was. _ I know him_, Gakuto thought with pride, although that wasn’t something to brag about. Even Shishido was a bit jealous of him. But there were no real issues. He was their teammate and he was… Nice. He even chatted and bonded with the others, to an extent. They just… weren’t close.

Honestly, Gakuto always felt like a dumbass talking to him. Here Oshitari stood, towering over him, volleyball genius. He never tripped or stumbled or messed up at anything, ever. He was an honor student, he even _ walked _cool. It was intimidating.

When he called him ‘Yuushi’ by accident, had no idea what he was thinking. How did he have the time to think about syllables? It was totally humiliating, even masked by the high, the immense success of their play.

But it _ worked _, that play was AWESOME. And he had a sense of pride that he was the only one permitted to call him ‘Yuushi’. He was glad that it was mandatory, otherwise he’d chicken out and go back to calling him Oshitari.

It wasn’t a big deal, Oshitari called Gakuto ‘Gakuto,’ even if everyone did– the other first years, at least. They were abandoned to clean the gym alone by dumbass third years for a whole year, and when the six of them chatted during their chores Oshitari was the odd one out saying “Mukahi-kun” in his Kansai accent. 

“_Yuushi _”. It didn’t stop feeling weird.

**6 Gakuto, Present **

_ “Oy, Yuushi!” _

“Gakuto,” Oshitari addressed him back in a teasing tone and walked over coolly.

“We’re going to get burgers. You should come too!” _ Please don’t say no, _Gakuto didn’t add.

Oshitari shrugged casually. “Sure.”

Gakuto gave Shishido and Jirou a brief glance of victory as they headed out. _ Nice. _

**7 Compliments**

Oshitari hung out late at the gym after practice as always, he was lazy leaving places. Classrooms too.

One night as he was leaving the gym, he discovered he wasn’t alone. 

“Oh. You startled me.”

The grass shifted noisily. “Oh. Hey Yuushi.”

Gakuto lay on his back on the manicured lawn outside the gym, looking up. There were about 12 visible stars.

“What... Are you doing?”

“I dunno.” Gakuto sat up and crossed his legs. “I don't really feel like going home. Why are you always the last one here?”

Oshitari shrugged. “I like the quiet.”

Gakuto lay back down. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said softly, genuinely. He closed his eyes but heard Oshitari settle in the grass next to him, putting his bag down.

Gakuto peeked over. “You aren’t worried about getting your uniform dirty?”

“Not particularly.”

“My mom gets mad,” Gakuto whispered and tugged at the grass. “But she isn’t really mad. I’m always getting clothes dirty. She’s used to it.”

“My mom might be mad, now that you mention it. I’ll just do my own laundry, perhaps.”

“Hah!” Gakuto turned to look up at him. “See, you are a good boy.”

Oshitari smirked and lay on his back next to him.

“You think you know everything about me, is that right?”

Gakuto cursed himself for saying it without thinking. He felt like an idiot saying something like that to Oshitari. 

“No, I don’t really know much about you, just what everyone knows. Like. You’re good at volleyball. You’re from Kansai. You’re popular and good at school. Sort of like that perfect guy everyone’s parents want them to be like.”

“Perfect?” Oshitari chuckled. He wasn’t expecting this, but the fact Gakuto was talking to him about himself is one he’d revel in. “Isn’t that Atobe?”

“Nah, I mean. Atobe is just unrealistic. Way too much.”

“Hmm. I see. I’m surprised you think these things about me.” His voice was so _ serious _, Gakuto felt stupid and flustered. 

“Hey, don't... Tease me! That’s bullshit. I just said stuff everyone knows. I know people tell you that shit all the time.” Gakuto had to be defensive, he didn’t want Oshitari to take it personally, it wasn’t like Gakuto was fawning over him.

“You’re right,” Oshitari sighed. 

“I just like compliments.”

That caught Gakuto by surprise and he cracked up. He laughed so hard he had to sit up. Gakuto looked to Oshitari who just had a slight smile. He didn't expect him to be… _ Funny__. _

Oshitari didn’t expect Gakuto to laugh, either. He just felt like being honest for once. 

“Asshole,” Gakuto muttered after he stopped laughing. He lay back down. There was something about talking in the dark quietly, looking at just sky. The sky was huge yet the voice sounded so close. It was hard to remember who he was talking to, they just… Talked.

“Okay, my turn then!” Gakuto decided.

“For compliments?”

“What do you know about me?” Including compliments, Gakuto hoped.

“Hmm.” Oshitari crossed his hands behind his head. “Your name is Mukahi Gakuto. You’re the most important player on the team.”

Gakuto sputtered and laughed, “What!?”

“Sh! I’m not done,” Oshitari scolded him calmly and continued. “You’ve known Shishido and Jirou since early childhood, you have a younger brother and an older sister, you hate economics…”

Gakuto sat up, shocked.   
“Y...Yuushi, you know all that!?”

Oshitari looked up at him and shrugged. “You talk about it.”

He lay back down. It never occurred to Gakuto that Oshitari was actually listening when he rambled on about his life. He didn’t expect him to care. They were just… teammates, he wasn’t friends with _ Oshitari Yuushi _. Except, he called him by his name. But there was context!

“I guess I’m just… Surprised. Damn, now I feel bad that I know nothing about you.”

“I suppose most people don’t. Unless they ask.”

_ Unless who asks? _ “Who asks?” Gakuto wanted to know.

Oshitari sighed dramatically before speaking, which Gakuto found hilarious after hearing the answer: “Girls.” He sounded so over it.

Oshitari was different from what he expected. Better.

“So girls know things about you?”  
Gakuto imagined girls crowdsourcing information about Oshitari and chuckled.

“Depends. Girls take answers too seriously for some questions”

“What’s _ that _supposed to mean?”

Gakuto rocked on his back holding his knees. It was night time, the crickets reminded him, but that didn’t matter. Even if he felt restless, he didn’t want to leave.

“If you asked me something, I would answer. Probably anything. It’s not the same with the girls I talk to.”

Gakuto only nodded. Oshitari got nervous by his lack of response.

“Does they make me an asshole?”

“I don’t know, Yuushi. I’m not followed by a hoard of high school girls every day, but if I was, I’d be scared of them too.” He snickered. Oshitari was glad he understood.

“But I’m special, huh?” Gakuto teased. “What about your other friends?”

Oshitari was at a loss for words. He had friends. He had people he talked to in his classes, people he was friendly with. But… He knew he needed an answer, fast, but he couldn’t think of any names to give and his throat froze and this was getting more humiliating by the second_ . _

Gakuto seemed to accept his silence. At least he didn’t try harder for an answer or apologize. Just said a soft, “Oh.”

“Remember, _ I _ didn’t say I was popular. I think we’re supposed to be talking about you, though.” Oshitari’s voice revealed nothing by its tone. 

Gakuto proceeded.  
“What is it you said about my volleyball again?”

“That you’re the most important player?”

“Yeah, uh, what the fuck are you talking about? Even if Atobe was out of the picture, it’s obviously you. I’m just the libero, dude.”

“Gakuto… Do you think I’m unqualified to answer the question?” _ I am the setter, I would know. _

“Well, no. But you’re still wrong.”

“I am not wrong,” Oshitari said simply.

“I don’t even do shit. I just dive around and hit balls other people miss. You’re THE setter, you have a _ jump serve _, I'm not even allowed to serve.”

“I didn’t say you were the best all-round player, but you are the most important. You will save the most points. We’ll get farther than we ever could with a different libero.” His voice grew softer.

Gakuto liked compliments too, but this was overwhelming. For a whole year he thought Oshitari was too cool to hang out with them, and he was… What, _ shy? _That didn't seem right either.

“You know, I do take the compliment. I will remind you of this constantly. I will proudly announce to Atobe that I’m more important than him.”

“You _ are _ like the girls I talk to.”

Gakuto stopped short.

“Hey, nah, I was kidding. I wouldn't… I wouldn’t tell people anything if you didn’t want me to.”

“You know, a lot of people say that. But what if I don’t say, ‘don’t tell anyone?’ Does that mean you will tell people?” Oshitari mused.

_ Shit, that’s true. A lot of times it goes unsaid. _

“I promise I won’t tell Atobe I’m more important than him.” 

Oshitari laughed.

“But you will tell Shishido that I don’t have friends.”

Gakuto startled Oshitari with a shove to the shoulder.

“You’re wrong. You do have friends. All of us. You and me, we’re friends. Got it?”

Oshitari considered his teammates friends, but never before with certainty. He dryly agreed.

“Thanks. That’s a relief. We are on a first name basis, after all.”

“Exactly!”

“How long are we going to lie out here?”

“Until we feel like leaving, I guess. You don’t have to wait on me.”

“I wouldn’t leave a friend behind.”

Gakuto laughed. You wouldn’t know it from looking at him, and Gakuto certainly didn’t realize it, but– Oshitari was excited.

Gakuto didn’t realize it until he was lying in bed that night, lights off, scrolling his phone. 

He still didn’t know anything about Oshitari Yuushi.


	3. Chapter 3

**8 Taki**

“All the applications are processed with the faculty, I’m still gathering information on some of the first years. I want to time Ootori’s serve at where it crosses the net. Also, the coach is fucking scary, Atobe. How am I supposed to coordinate with him?” Taki took another bite out of his granola bar, sitting on the bleachers before practice, his binder in his lap. He had his new manager uniform on- basically warm ups. His jersey didn’t have a number.

Atobe stretched before him.

“You shouldn’t have to coordinate. I’m sure he’ll ask you for player information to fine tune personal coaching, but organizing duties are all yours.”

“Excellent,” Taki didn’t look up but he wore a catty smile.

“So organize a match soon.”

“Mhm. Working on it. Go practice, Atobe. I’m busy.” Taki was grateful their faculty advisor trusted him enough with this. Atobe’s funding changed things. 

Being a manager was right up Taki’s alley. Everything was going fine and dandy filling out his player stat spreadsheet when the towering coach walked in and sat right beside him.  _ Fuck _ .

“Sir!”  _ Should I?  _ Taki stood up to bow but the man waved a hand, not even looking at him. He sat back down, wide-eyed.

“Taki Haginosuke, the manager.”

“Yes sir,” Taki feigned confidence in midst of this man’s thousand dollar suit and yakuza tv drama aura.

“I’ll need information on individual players today as I observe, can you provide that?”

“Yes sir!”

**9 Gakuto **

“Heh, look at Taki,” Gakuto said in a low voice to Shishido as they ran around the court. Shishido was obnoxiously fast but Gakuto kept up today, since they were being watched. Besides, nobody could reach as high as Gakuto in wall jumps so he’d get his chance to show off.

Shishido looked over at Taki and coughed a laugh. He was sitting rigidly next to the huge fancy looking coach, shoulders in, hovered over his binder. Sullen. Glaring, actually. 

The first year Hiyoshi passed them.  _ “Brat,”  _ Gakuto muttered. Shishido took off to race him but Gakuto didn’t have that kind of stamina to spare. Oshitari was beside him about 10 seconds later. “Tired, Yuushi?” 

“I didn’t want you to feel bad about your short legs.”

“Don’t insult my legs. I have great legs.”

Oshitari paused, not breathing heavy or anything, just a pause to choose his words as he ran. 

“I won’t argue there.” 

Gakuto got a little embarrassed. He changed the subject. 

“Did you see Taki?”

“Yes, I imagine he’s very grateful for Atobe’s extra club funding right now.”

Gakuto snickered. “Atobe said the coach is going to  _ observe us _ and then tell us what he thinks at the end.”

“That won’t be so bad.” 

Gakuto rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, because you’re perfect and have no reason to fear criticism, just like Atobe. The rest of us actually have things we need to work on.”

“What do you think you need to work on?”

Gakuto didn’t say anything for half a lap. Finally he grumbled, “I have short legs.”

Oshitari’s laughter caught the attention of everyone around them. It wasn’t very loud, but it was rare.

“Gakuto, I doubt he’ll command you to  _ grow. _ ”

He looked over and Gakuto was pouting. They finished their laps, Oshitari amused.

They all felt the coach’s sharp eyes, even during stretching. Gakuto didn’t stretch as much as he could, scared of drawing too much attention.

_ “Gakuto, what are you doing?”  _ He glared at Jirou to shut up. If anyone needed to be nervous, it was Jirou.

Drills before felt like training, but now they were pressured testing. Nerves were getting to a lot of them.

“How you perform under pressure is the only thing that matters,” Atobe reminded everyone.

**10 Taki**

Taki stood up to get his water bottle because he was too afraid to scoot away from the coach in an obvious way.

He sat back down with more space.

“Who is the short one?”

“Oh, Ga-Mukahi Gakuto. 2nd year, 159 cm tall–“

“What does he do?”

_ Isn’t it obvious?  _ ”...He’s the libero.”

“I see.” The coach revealed nothing of his thought process. 

During serves he asked about almost everyone.

“That’s Jirou. He sleeps but he has a good serve.”

Coach only nodded after seeing the serve.

“Who is that boy at the empty court?”

“Tall one is first year Ootori Choutarou, other one Shishido Ryou, second year. Ootori has a fast serve.” The fastest any of them had ever seen.

He served and the boom echoed, though the players had gotten used to it there were still some smiles.

The coach nodded, expressionless. He understood why they were at the empty court.

“Who’s that?”

Somehow Taki knew who he was talking about, probably from the nearly straight line serve hitting the court in the same spot, over and over.

“Kabaji Munehiro… first year.”

“F-“ the coach stopped and said nothing more.

Gakuto practiced against the wall until they did return and spike drills, which he fielded from the other side. The coach didn’t ask many more questions until Oshitari started setting to them.

“Sports goggles. What is his vision?”

Taki closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Oshitari Yuushi, second year. 20/20, both eyes.”

The coach didn’t speak anymore after that.

Oshitari and Atobe were flawless, as everyone expected. Shishido’s spikes went out twice, Gakuto accidentally put two balls over the net and did a pretty shitty job in his match against the wall. Everyone’s flaws showed.

The reviews were brutal. It somewhat helped that Coach spoke calmly, but they were brutal.

“You’re too fast to dash in the wrong direction. Pay better attention, be more cautious. Your shoulders are too far forward when you’re at the net. Your feet are in the wrong direction when you serve, making your serves inconsistent. Next.”

Shishido blinked hard after turning away, sitting back on the floor next to Ootori and Hiyoshi. Many of them trembled. They watched other first years stand before him receiving similar comments. Almost everyone needed to bend their knees more. 

It was Gakuto’s turn. 

“Don’t limit yourself intentionally. That’s ridiculous. Train at your best, always, even when you stretch. We need to change your practice regimen to more efficient drills. You think your stamina is enough, but it’s not. It will never be enough. A libero can never have enough stamina, your legs are short and it takes more effort to move.”  _ I fucking told you, Yuushi. _ “Run ten extra laps from now on. We’ll adjust as necessary. Next.”

Gakuto sat down trying not to pout. 

Atobe stood before him and the coach studied him for a minute. “Help your players focus more. Good work. Next.”

_ “Of course” _ , Shishido mumbled. 

The first years scraped by with general advice stressing consistency and ferocity. “All of you should aspire to Shishido’s attitude in game play.” 

Shishido blushed insanely and the other second years held back a laugh.

“Next.” 

Oshitari stood and walked before him. Gakuto relaxed– this practice was finally over. Nobody expected much from this. Oshitari didn’t mess up once.

“You don’t bend your knees enough. Your resting stance on the court is too casual, it must be active and you must be ready to jump at all times. Just because you’re the setter doesn’t mean you can slack off.”

Jaws dropped. Gakuto couldn’t believe his ears.

“You have excellent precision in catering to spikers and their hit directions, but you make no effort to communicate. Other players need to know what’s going on too, eye contact won’t always be enough in a game, especially with your eyes covered. Your other volleyball skills are up to par, but you should try to vary where your serves land.”

Oshitari blinked and nodded, maintaining his poker face. It hadn’t been tested like this in awhile. He hated the serve comment, he could serve anywhere and he would prove it. He was just being lazy. And he  _ did  _ bend his knees, he always knew what was going on–

“Because of your other skills and your ability to spike, I don’t yet understand what led to you becoming the primary setter. Who else sets?”

“...Jirou. Atobe.” Taki offered. Taki did, before.

“Train someone else, you can’t be the only one. Next.”

**11 Oshitari**

Even Atobe didn’t see that coming.

Nobody did. And no one was more shocked than Oshitari himself.

“Hey don’t even worry, dude.” Shishido said in the doorway of the locker room, after it was all over. “He doesn’t know how you are in games, he wouldn’t know how good you are just from today.”

“Yeah, Yuushi, he was so mean, you’re amazing.”

“You should train another setter,” Atobe noted and received many glares. “I shouldn’t have to take over if you’re out of commission. Taki’s gone, someone else needs to be able to set.” Atobe  _ is  _ the ace. He didn’t give any words of encouragement to Oshitari, who said nothing among any of these comments. He just changed and packed his things, faster than ever before. He didn’t want to be the last one there, not today. He was in a bad mood.

“Yuushi–“ Gakuto grabbed his shirt sleeve when he tried to leave. “Wait for me.” His pleading eyes were all that kept Oshitari from declining.

As soon as Gakuto was ready, Oshitari led the way out looking straight ahead, stoically. He didn’t want to talk about it.

They made some distance on their way to the station. Gakuto skipped. “How ya doin?”

“I’m alright.” He was totally fine.

Gakuto walked past the street they needed to turn on. “Come on.”

Oshitari just wanted to go home, but Gakuto was his closest friend in Tokyo at this point, which wasn’t saying much.

Gakuto bought him ice cream and made him sit at a table.

“I’m sorry he said all that stuff, Yuushi.”

“Why?” He replied sardonically, “Who was I to think I wasn’t subject to criticism? I have no right to be upset.”

Gakuto kicked him under the table. “Well I’m upset. He was wrong about a lot of stuff.”

Oshitari raised his eyes to meet Gakuto’s.

“No, he was right. I don’t communicate.”

Gakuto ate his ice cream in thought. 

“I guess I wouldn’t really know, you never set to me. How can I help?”

Oshitari swallowed. “You don’t need to help, I’ll figure it out, thank y-“

Gakuto kicked him again. “Shut the fuck up. How can I help? What are you gonna do to work on it?”

Oshitari smiled almost, and kicked him back.


	4. Chapter 4

**12 Ootori**

Ootori really didn’t want to hurt anyone. 

He tried to say that, but his senpai just laughed. Atobe teased him, and to be truthful it gave him a brief sense of pride– “Then you shouldn’t have developed such a killer serve.”

The problem was, sometimes he was worried he  _ would _ kill someone. Not that it was a very rational fear.

Ootori wasn’t worried in normal practice, especially when Shishido was so eager to try and return his serves. But what Coach was having him do now was different, and the audience didn’t help. He felt like an executioner.

Gakuto shook his hands out and adjusted each foot, trying not to look scared, probably for Ootori’s sake more than his own. He squatted, legs wide. He mumbled something about how he was as ready as he was going to get.

Ootori frowned at his senpai before serving. Something like an apology. Gakuto was so…  _ Tiny _ . Ootori couldn’t help but imagine his serve knocking him out like a bowling pin.

_ “It’s his job. He's annoying anyway,”  _ Shishido whispered.

“Ootori, serve.” Coach sounded impatient.

_ One shot with all my soul. You better mean it, Choutarou. _

He felt and heard the power of his palm’s impact, it always felt a little magical, the ball sung through the air over the net, and he closed his eyes. The ball hit the court.

He opened his eyes and Gakuto hadn’t moved. 

“Out. Again!”

Now he was even more nervous. “One shot with all my soul,” he’d better say it out loud, just a whisper. Toss, prepare, hit–

Gakuto skidded on his knees, his joined hands uselessly slid under where the ball landed, much too late. 

“Again. Everyone else, start setting. Atobe.” Atobe took over the other part of practice and Coach sat on the bench. It was just Ootori and Gakuto on the court now. Gakuto stood up straight and bounced on his toes. They both rolled their shoulders. They got ready, and Ootori served again.

**13 Oshitari**

“What do you think?” Atobe crossed his arms while Oshitari focused on feeding balls to players lined up on either side of the net. 

_ This drill is boring, _ is what he thought. First of all, it was complicated. They were supposed to set balls back and forth in a zig zag, to the far end of the net, then they rotated. It took awhile to get the hang of, and a few players at a time had to wait for a space before joining the other side of the net. They were going pretty strong, for now. The only exciting thing that happened was when the train changed directions.

“I think Jirou is better than all of them,” Oshitari said in a low voice, eyes on his task of feeding balls. 

Atobe scoffed. “No shit, genius. What do you think of the men before you?”

Oshitari sighed. He knew Atobe had already decided and he only wanted Oshitari’s input to validate himself. Unless, even worse, this was a test.

“Shishido isn’t setter material.” 

Atobe smirked in agreement.

“Hey! Fuck you guys, I haven’t missed anything!” He was right next to them in the train.

“You’re too impulsive, Shishido,” Atobe pointed out. Shishido grumbled irritably, spiking the next ball Oshitari fed right at Atobe’s face. Atobe being Atobe, he crouched and managed to set it right back to him, amused.

“Nice aim,” Oshitari could at least praise Shishido for that. 

“Beh, ‘Too fast’. I’d like to see you say that in a game.” His ponytail whipped as he muttered his way to the back of the line. Oshitari wondered if he knew it did that.

“Yamamoto.” Atobe never whispered but he spoke in a way so only Oshitari could hear.

“The one with the underhand serve?” He was focused and had good form. All of the non-regulars were first years, so it was normal they lacked the consistency that comes with experience. 

“It means he’s cautious, but look, he’s not scared.” 

Atobe was right, the first year Yamamoto was stony and clear-headed even under Atobe’s current obvious scrutiny. 

“Hiyoshi,” Oshitari stated the obvious and Atobe ignored him for it. He joined Oshitari, feeding balls to the opposite side and stressing out the flow of inexperienced setters rotating around the net. 

One kid, probably Jirou’s height, smiled at this change and set faster than the rest. 

“Someone wants to be noticed,” Oshitari hummed.

Atobe laughed, loudly. “I like it. He wants it.” Even if he messed up a few times. He elbowed Oshitari hard. “Honda. That’s three. Take care of it.”

Atobe marched off and took Kabaji and Shishido with him. They weren’t going to be setters. Shishido sulked.

To Oshitari’s mild surprise, Gakuto joined the setting train.  _ Liberos set _ , Coach must have reminded him. Gakuto wasn’t great, and he breathed hard and shallow down the line, but his arrival brightened up the tired gazes of the players. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to defeat the lullaby of dull taps, fingers deflecting volleyballs, over and over and over. 

_ This drill is taking too long, Atobe. _ Oshitari glared his way and Captain understood, yelling at everyone to change drills.

“Did you get any?” Oshitari asked when he pushed the ball basket past Gakuto, whose face was back to normal color. He grimaced.  _ That’s a no. _ It’s not like Oshitari didn’t know the answer. They all heard the scud serve blast the hard court, echoing loudly through the gym, repeatedly. The ball would sound different if it hit Gakuto. Gakuto would definitely sound different as well.

Today’s practice was very unsatisfying for most of them. The exceptions were Atobe, always strangely optimistic, and the two never-before-significant first years, Yamamoto and Honda.

Oshitari had to stay back afterwards to receive training instructions for the next morning. 

Oshitari stood before Atobe with Hiyoshi, Yamamoto, and Honda. None of them looked at each other. None of them said anything but Honda bounced enthusiastically. His eyes were a little scary. “Be here tomorrow morning. Official morning practices start next week, but Oshitari needs to learn how to teach.” Oshitari mentally tripped Atobe as he walked away. He smiled politely at the first years and followed after his captain.

“Won’t I need the keys?”

“Gakuto has them. Try to care tomorrow.” He smirked and head to the locker rooms, leaving Oshitari behind.  _ Fuck off. _

Today was a drag and all he wanted was to go home, eat dinner, read some trashy book, and go to sleep. He went back to get his water bottle and observed the courts’ leftovers.

Jirou woke up at some point, so he was setting with Taki, perfectly. It was too bad he couldn’t last a rotation without falling asleep, at least not last year. Shishido was trying to set with them too until Oshitari turned around, and he walked away with shame to practice with Ootori. 

Ootori. He was still hitting serves. All through the entire practice, he never stopped. The booming serves grew so constant, they could tune them out, like a clock ticking.

On the floor like a starfish in his own sad corner lay Gakuto. Poor, exhausted Gakuto. Oshitari decided to say hello.

He walked over and stood over him.

“Heyyy Yuushi.” His eyes were half open and he sounded like a drunk old lady.

“You’re pitiful. Why are you lying here and not in the locker room?” There were couches in there.

“‘Caaaause,” he sighed. “I still need to stretch. If i don't he’ll  _ know.”  _

What a drama queen. He made a pathetic attempt of puppy eyes pouting at Oshitari.

“I’m tiiired.” 

He did do 10 extra sets in every single drill, and an additional 20 laps after practice. Coach was strict on him. At least Oshitari stopped feeling sorry for himself. He stretched his arms lazily. “What do you want me to do about it?”

Gakuto lifted one of his feet a little. “Push it,” he urged. 

_ What? _

“Yuushi hurry. Push it up.” Apparently every second Gakuto held his heel off 2 cm off the ground was excruciating. Oshitari moved his foot under the back of Gakuto’s, lifting it off the ground. 

“Okay, good job. Now push it up, and back.”

_ ...Is he serious? _ Oshitari looked at everyone else in the gym and back at Gakuto. He lifted Gakuto’s leg with his foot until he could reach it with his hand and brought it up, so his leg stuck straight up in the air. He waited for further instruction. Gakuto closed his eyes.

“So now push it down, to my face.”

Oshitari realized after a certain point that Gakuto meant  _ all  _ the way down to his face (which shouldn’t be physically possible) and he couldn’t push it there without getting on his knees. Oshitari had to accept how this escalated. Did Gakuto not realize what he was asking him to do?

“How can you stretch like this?”

“Because I can. Farther.”

He pushed his foot down more but that wasn’t working.

“More. Farther,” Gakuto demanded, opening an eye to peek at Oshitari kneeling next to him.

“Oh get over it, Yuushi. If you’re a physical therapist one day this is great practice, okay?” Oshitari glared at him and made a face.  _ Diva. _ Gakuto didn’t seem to care.

“More. Push my leg,” he instructed.

Oshitari pressed a hand along Gakuto’s calf and lowered it slowly, as far as it would go. “You have arms, you know.”

“Oh, that’s true. Thanks.” He smiled. “Mmmm” he wrapped arms around his leg like he was holding a teddy bear. Then he stopped, opening his eyes and getting frustrated as he got his shoe and knee pad off, tossing them behind him. Then he returned to his smiling, eyes closed cradling of his leg.

Oshitari just sat there on his knees, judging his friend. His skin shone with light sweat, mostly dry except where his knee pad left red crease marks in his skin. 

Maybe it was his exhaustion from the overall day, maybe he just liked the distraction, but for whatever reason, Oshitari gave up on caring.

So he sat there, and with nothing left to look at but the wall and Gakuto’s stupid smiling face, his eyes turned to the athlete’s leg before him. 

Gakuto was too small to be buff by any means, but up close he had serious muscle in his legs. They were still lean and kind of curvy, like a girl’s legs, probably because his skin was so smooth. The difference was that they curved from muscle. Probably. He didn’t know that much about legs or anything.

He knew that guys had different thighs though. He moved his eyes that way to confirm the difference, but had to avert his gaze quickly when he realized how short the volleyball shorts could be on a leg stretched as far as Gakuto’s. 

_ This is creepy. _ No. Not necessarily.

_ This is science. Objective observation. It’s just my teammate. _

He looked at Gakuto’s thigh. 

_ Funny, _ Oshitari thought. Gakuto looked kind of skinny from afar. He was small, and not in a stout way of course. He was like a circus acrobat.

That was very hard to imagine looking at his leg right now. You wonder how small he’d be if he wasn’t sculpted with this much muscle. Oshitari thought about it and supposed they all bulked up over the last year, they grew taller as well. 

Were Gakuto’s thighs this thick last year? A mystery.

He saw the muscle tense and turned his face to Gakuto’s.

“Yuushi, whatcha doin?” he asked.  _ Busted. _

_ Just be honest.  _ “Your leg looks different up close.”

“I told you I have nice legs.” Gakuto chuckled, releasing it from his chest and putting it back down. The front of his thigh was nice too. 

_ Toned. Not nice, you mean toned. _

“Okay Yuushi, next one!”

Man, he really just wanted to go home. “Don’t look so annoyed, you wouldn’t have gone home yet anyway.”

“That’s not true, actually.” But he sighed.

Oshitari resigned to this task, so when everyone else stopped what they were doing to look at the questionable scene, he could only give a defeated look back. 

Oshitari was already sitting there, so he wobbled to the other side and took Gakuto’s shoe off quickly and lifted his leg up from under his knee pad. Then he had to push it down by the calf, otherwise it was bent. Gakuto would have to get the knee pad off himself. 

Oshitari paid attention to how his leg moved and stretched. It was too late to abandon his curiosity now, and Gakuto either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He pushed his calf down to his face and waited until Gakuto grabbed it.

He slung the knee pad off with grand abandon. Oshitari watched him hold his leg tight for extra stretch and make a suggestive face and sound.

He wondered if it was actually necessary to be so erotic about it or if he was trying to make Oshitari uncomfortable on purpose. He sat against the wall to avoid such a result.

Oshitari then watched with disdain as Gakuto hopped off the ground and finished stretching his legs himself, effortlessly pulling a leg up behind him, supporting his balance with a hand on the wall.

_ You have got to be kidding me _ . But Gakuto pretended he didn’t know what that look meant, and asked innocently, “What?”

“And here I was led to believe you’d simply perish if you tried to stretch on your own.”

Gakuto gave him an evil shameless smile. “Well now I’m all rested! Plus I couldn’t make you do this part, that would be weird,” he laughed with no sense of awkwardness.

“As if it wasn’t weird already.” 

Gakuto’s face fell and he looked at Oshitari.

“I’m sorry… You didn’t have to do it, Yuushi.” He looked away. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

_ Shit.  _ Oshitari didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it or make him feel bad. But how could he say that without sounding–

“HAHA!” Gakuto spouted laughter. “As if, douchebag. You were the one looking at my ass.” He snickered. 

“That’s not true,” Oshitari stayed calm. Gakuto caught him off guard, and Oshitari was surprised that he fell for it. For some reason that really annoyed him.

Gakuto raised his eyebrows at him and laughed more; quietly, finishing his stretches. “Okay, okay. I mean my  _ legs. _ Don’t worry, Yuushi. I won’t tell anyone about your leg fetish.”

“I shouldn’t have helped you,” Oshitari stood up, his face would not be red, he wouldn’t let that happen and it was time to leave. He didn’t say goodbye.  _ What a brat. _

**14 Ootori **

“Ootori, go home! It’s late. We’ll practice more tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thank you. See you tomorrow, Mukahi-senpai.”

He wasn’t going anywhere. Ootori had gotten worse. More and more of his serves were landing out than ever before, and he couldn’t just leave it like that. He needed to fix it.

“You’re doing something wrong.” Shishido walked behind the court and noted the obvious. The issue was, Ootori couldn’t figure out  _ what _ he was doing wrong.

“You keep doing it, you might make it a habit, and the problem will be harder to solve.”

Ootori wasn’t listening, he fake tossed once, twice-

the ball didn’t land, a flash before him snuck it out of the air and out of his reach.

“Shishido-senpai, please.”

Shishido didn’t look up, he just smacked the ball against the ground. Again and again before catching it back in his hands. 

“I wouldn’t be a very good senpai if I let this continue. You have to stop for the night.”

“I can’t,” he didn’t understand, Ootori couldn’t give up now. He needed to get at least one more serve in. He tried to pick up another ball.

“ _ Ootori, _ ” he snapped, loudly, angrily, and it dawned on Ootori that he had disrespected his senpai. Using his name, he felt like he was in trouble. What was he thinking? He couldn’t just use the gym unauthorized.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Shh.” Shishido angrily shushed him and grabbed his wrist roughly, yanking it between their faces. He was a great deal shorter than Ootori and a great deal scarier. Ootori swallowed.

Then, to his surprise, his senpai’s face… softened.

“Look. Your palm.”

Ootori looked at his palm. It was red. That wasn’t much of a surprise.

“Curl your fingers a few times, like you’re holding a pencil.” Shishido’s voice was calmer but his grip did not soften. Ootori curled his fingers–

Only he didn’t, at least not well. They were numb and rigid, and his stomach sank. That was bad, very bad.

“Dummy.” Shishido let go of his wrist, seeing that he understood. “You know you still have classes tomorrow, right? You need to be able to write. Volleyball isn’t a good enough excuse. Trust me,” he laughed. “I’ve tried.”

Ootori tried to listen but he had a bout of internal panic going on. How could he be so  _ stupid?  _ His piano teacher would murder him. 

“Hey don’t worry about it. it’ll wear off by tomorrow. I’ll help you clean up. I’ll buy you ice cream, cheer you up!”

“Oh, are you sure?” It occurred to him that he and Shishido were the last ones at the gym. Did he stay this late to practice with Ootori? 

_ Oh no. _

Ootori turned to face him abruptly. “I’m so sorry! I’m sure you want to go home, and I’ve been here and… you must want to lock up and leave, I didn’t think…”

Shishido waved a hand. “Nah, Nah. Don’t worry about it. It’s not like that. Plus.” He started taking the net down. “What kind of senpai would I be if I just left you alone?” Ootori rushed to help him get the net down.

“Thank you, senpai!”

They left the building together, it was quiet out, past dark. Ootori waited for Shishido to lock up behind them.

He just closed the door and it clicked shut. He turned to Ootori and raised an eyebrow with a little smirk. “See? Locks on its own.”

Now Ootori felt dumb for suggesting Shishido was only there because of him. They just happened to practice at the same time, and Ootori took it personally. “Shishido-senpai,”

He had no idea how to even begin to apologize for that. He was stuck for words and wished he would stop saying stupid things.

Shishido didn’t seem to care, though. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder and powered forward. “Come on, stop apologizing. You worked hard today, you deserve ice cream.”

He walked fast, Ootori had to adjust his pace to keep up. “Thank you, senpai!” He thought maybe he heard a little “heh,” in response. Maybe for a little while, Ootori wouldn’t worry about it.


	5. Chapter 5

**15 Hiyoshi**

Hiyoshi informed his parents that he could not train in the morning because he was invited to early morning practice. Aside from the prestige, volleyball was a fantastic alternative to whatever his dad had planned. This is what he thought.

Now he would rather be cleaning the dojo floors than be waiting outside the gym with these fools. The other ‘chosen’ first years.

At first they tried to talk to him. That wasn’t terribly offensive. People try to talk to Hiyoshi all the time. The issue was talking back.

Then they started arguing. Bickering. At 6:15 AM, before their first special setting practice. They were obnoxious, and Hiyoshi wanted even less to do with them than he had initially.

Ootori was his friend. Other than him, the first years on the team didn’t impress him much. Kabaji was talented of course, but he didn’t speak much or show much interest in pursuing friendship. That was fine by Hiyoshi.

He kicked at some pebbles standing under a tree away from them and stretched, balancing on one foot at a time. It was some attempt at productivity while they waited. Sure, they could have been warming up, if they weren’t in school uniforms. The first years hadn’t been assigned their team uniforms yet, unlike Oshitari now strolling up in his warm ups. His hands were in his pockets and he acted like they had all day. 

“You’re all still out here?” Oshitari surveyed the three of them. He sighed and lowered his voice. “Gakuto didn’t let you in, huh?”

He seemed more like he was talking to himself than to them, Hiyoshi thought. It was at that time the door to the gym opened. 

Atobe stood in the doorway.

“Ah~n? Ready or not?” He turned and didn't wait for them, and Oshitari slipped in after. Hiyoshi caught the door before it shut on him and the other first years.

The other two hurried to set up the net, but Hiyoshi slowed his pace, eavesdropping. He thought he was entitled to an explanation as to why they had to wait.

“Of course he isn’t here,” Atobe laughed dismissively. “Would _you _be able to wake up this early after everything he did yesterday?”

Oshitari rested his hand on his hip. “Probably not. Why bother giving him the keys?” 

“Set up the net, Hiyoshi,” Atobe suddenly pierced him with a look, ordering. 

“Yes, captain.” Hiyoshi gritted his teeth on the way to the closet. Whatever. _Hiyoshi _would be able to wake up early after all the extra “work” Mukahi had to do at practice. What a team of slackers. Hiyoshi would pave a place at the top in no time.

**16 Atobe**

Right on schedule, Gakuto texted Atobe at ten til. 

> **G: **i just woke up!!!! shit!!!!!!!! i'll be there asap!!!!!!

  
Atobe, already inside the gym, expected exactly this. It was nice to be right, but he was used to it. Still, he smirked as Gakuto burst through the doors in a panic at 6:19.

“Shit! I guess you guys got in. Did you have to wait long?” Gakuto put his bag down, panting.

Oshitari busied himself cleaning his sport glasses, offering no answer and leaving it up to Atobe.

“Not too long. Try again tomorrow.” Atobe instructed and the jumpy boy went off to serve against the wall.

**17 Gakuto**

“Can we talk later? I've got to focus on this.” 

Each word stung. Gakuto was just joking around, being friendly. He felt a chill go through him, head to toe. 

He was bothering Yuushi. 

The worst part was, Gakuto knew as he took humiliated steps backwards from where Yuushi started setting to his freshmen, was that he said it so _politely._

But… It was _ice cold_. What the hell? At first Gakuto had stood by him and made little jokes. Yuushi hadn’t looked at him, but stood next to him and stared forward while they watched the baby setters. Usually he offered a small smile in response, to acknowledge whatever Gakuto said, but not this morning. 

_Maybe he’s too sleepy. He's never liked morning practice._

But even 20 minutes in, Yuushi was usually nice enough to offer a mouth twitch to acknowledge what Gakuto said. Plus, he was saying funny things! Things Yuushi would love, like how Atobe was checking out the mushroom kid’s ass. That was such an awkward comment for Yuushi to have ignored!

But this? _‘Can we talk later?’ _Gakuto’s feelings were downright hurt.

He skulked away in shame to hit against the wall. He ignored the eye contact Atobe was offering to make. Atobe noticed, which meant something _was_ up and Yuushi was being cold on purpose.

Gakuto racked his brain, the ball reddening his forearms and his wrists each time the wall hit it back to him. At one point he slammed it back with bad accuracy in his annoyance, and had to jump further to catch it. Rolling around on the ground he frowned. What had he done to deserve such cold treatment? It reminded him of how cool Yuushi was and why he used to be afraid to talk to him. 

_Shit! _In his distraction Gakuto hit the ball too far to the right. He had to jump on his hands and swing out his leg to barely catch it with the top of his foot, but his kick sucked and the ball rebounded off the wall in a path impossible to reach, toward the setters. He looked over to get his ball back and saw Yuushi.

He saw his eyes flash to Gakuto’s foot for a second and away.

It hit Gakuto like Ootori’s serve wouldn’t. He knew what Yuushi was upset about.

_He’s mad because of the stretching last night._ What, the leg fetish comment!?

Gakuto was _pissed_. He kicked the volleyball off the wall angrily until Atobe yelled at him to use his hands or move to Brazil. Something about damaging the volleyballs. _What the fuck ever!_

How _dare _Yuushi be rude because of that! Gakuto was the one who should be mad, Yuushi was totally looking at him like a perv! 

Gakuto was nice enough not to be mad about it either, because truthfully he _wasn’t_. Oshitari Yuushi was checking him out!? If it was anyone else he’d kick the shit out of them. Except maybe Jirou because Jirou was always doing shit like that. Or Taki because so was Taki. But anyone else!

But… Not Yuushi. He felt oddly _honored._

When he opened his eyes and watched Yuushi’s eyes scroll down the length of Gakuto’s legs to his face, _perfectly _shameless, he felt his stomach catch on fire. 

The girls in his class would be _so jel-_

The girls. Right. Girls. Yuushi was popular with girls. Because Yuushi was a guy and Gakuto was also a guy.

It’s not like Gakuto liked Yuushi, obviously. He was hot, of course, but even Shishido teased him for that when girls waved at him before practice. That was fact, not opinion. Plus, they were friends. Buddies. _Bros._

Plus, Yuushi was a fucking asshole. He shouldn't get away with being pervy just because he's Oshitari Yuushi! And what, Gakuto called him out on it _teasingly_ and he was being a little bitch? 

Gakuto was _super _pissed. 

“Gakuto, stop kicking the balls or you won't be allowed to touch one for the rest of the day. Start your laps!”

“Yes SIR!” He shouted in response to Atobe. Nobody said anything as he beat the hell out of the floor with his feet, round and round the gym, refusing to look at Yuushi or anything but the shiny wooden floor in front of him, the court lines he followed. Gakuto felt all the stares and tried really hard not to wonder if Yuushi’s was one of them.

**18 Oshitari**

It wasn't his imagination.

He knew because the class rep would _never_. And so her perfectly regulatory, knee-length skirt provided the point of reference that Oshitari needed. 

The rest of the skirts had gotten shorter. He observed the lunch line, a few girls he talked to stood behind class-rep-san, just like every other day.

The length difference between their skirts was greater today than it had been the day before.

_No. He wouldn't._

Oshitari made eye contact with one of the girls he was studying. She accused him with her eyebrows but smiled.

_He did._

Gakuto told. 

He wasn't sure how or through who it spread, but in 5th period the guy sitting next to him passed him a vague note. All it said was ‘thank you’.

Hyotei High School had scribed it in stone: Oshitari Yuushi had a leg fetish.

Oshitari wasn't upset because of his new reputation. He was upset because Gakuto said he wouldn't tell, yet he did just that. He knew Gakuto was mad at him from practice, but from their friendship’s beginnings, he said he wouldn't spill Yuushi’s secrets. All it took was _this, _a simple morning of avoidance, to betray that? What kind of friend was he?

This is why Oshitari didn’t trust people. He thought Gakuto was different and he let his guard down. He deeply, deeply regretted it. 

**19 Taki**

Taki Haginosuke was having an excellent day. It wasn't even noon and already there was drama, and the drama involved his friends, and that meant he’d easily be in on it. Taki loved nothing more than being in on it.

The funniest part of it all is that although he was present when the rumor was born, he could not be blamed for starting it!

That morning was like every other: He poked Jirou when class started so he would wake up for attendance. Jirou rubbed his eyes, stretched his arms, and mumbled, “Hey Taki...”

“Yeah?”

Then he chuckled. Giggled. Something in between, something very Jirou. And he said, too loudly, always too loudly,

“Did you know Oshitari has a leg fetish?”

Taki couldn't resist rotating his head just slightly to see who had heard. At least 15 sets of eyes darted away when he turned to check.

He couldn't help but break out into a wide Cheshire grin. “Oh, Jirou. Look what you've done.”

“Oh. Did I say that too loud?”

Taki turned to him and laughed silently, nodding.

Jirou made an oops face and shrugged with a small smile. He propped his chin on his fists as their teacher came in, trying to stay awake to assert his presence when called upon. Taki sighed and stretched his arms, grinning and excited for what would surely be an interesting day.

**20 Gakuto**

“Yo, what's the deal with you guys?” Shishido jogged in place as he whispered next to Gakuto. _Tryhard._

Oshitari hadn’t been talking to him. It was increasingly maddening, especially since Gakuto didn’t deserve it. And he answered such, with no lack of bitterness in his voice:

“I don’t know, why don't you ask _Oshitari-_”

_“Gakuto.” _Atobe barked from across the gym, where he shouldn't have been able to hear. All the players at practice were staring at him, even Jirou, who said it: 

“Gakuto, you know you can't call him that.”

“Wh...What?”

Shishido, _of all people_, agreed, “Yeah, dumbass. It's against the rules.” He smacked Gakuto on the side of the head hard. 

“Ow!”

“Dont fuck up our luck!”

“You've gotta be kidding me–”

“PRACTICE.” Coach’s voice bellowed and the sounds he wanted filled the air, the shoe squeaks and the muted taps and the echoing slaps of volleyballs.

Gakuto, frozen from what the fuck just actually happened, looked across the gym and met eyes with Oshitari. 

What he got was a direct, one-on-one, cold expressionless stare that after a few seconds, abandoned him for something more interesting. Volleyball.

_Dammit!_ Why did that fucking burn? Something about it made Gakuto so uncomfortable, it was almost painful. Oshitari wouldn't even _speak _to him for three days and what–he was still supposed to call him Yuushi?

_Stupid fucking good luck charm bullshit. _

Gakuto got angrier and angrier. He wished Ootori would send scud serves at him, but the freshman was banned from serving for the rest of the week.

Kabaji was a decent alternative. Gakuto took in the red pain of every serve that hit his body, sending it toward that bratty freshman, the new setter–the really good mushroom head with the shitty personality. Gakuto almost preferred Yuushi. 

“Oh, I'm sorry, was that not good enough for you?” Gakuto finally mocked the freshman who sighed every time he had to run a little to set a ball Gakuto hit up.

“I didn't say anything, senpai.” 

Gakuto hated Hiyoshi’s stupid dry voice, what was it with setters and deadpan voices? He was sick of this kid. Unlike Yuushi, he could read it in his face. He was looking down on Gakuto, not just literally.

“We can switch, if you'd like, since you seem to think I'm not good enough to play with you.”

“Senpai, I don't think that– I meant no disrespect.”

_“Bullshit.” _Hiyoshi's eyes didn’t mean it at all. Gakuto got in his face, looking up, challenging him. “You wanna try returning all of his serves?” He pointed to Kabaji across the net, far from where they stood. “We can switch places. See if you're as good as you think.” Gakuto stared him down and got a little satisfying thrill when the freshman narrowed his eyes, baited, he was going to take the challenge–

“Mukahi, 40 laps! Setters will practice setting, this isn’t playtime. We have a match next week.” The coach’s voice held no patience. Gakuto slapped his feet against the floor, looking at no one, accustomed to the stares he'd gotten this week. He was sick of laps and sick of stares but such was his life these days.

To his surprise, Atobe fell into step beside him. Gakuto tried to ignore him and it worked. For a few laps, they ran around the gym together in silence. Finally, Gakuto couldn’t take it.

“_What?” _He demanded.

“Gakuto. I recommend you reconsider trying to fight me.”

“I'm not trying to fight anyone!” Okay, he was definitely trying to fight Hiyoshi. “Except that brat. But just him. That kid is an asshole, Atobe. I don't care if he's your favorite.”

Atobe laughed loudly, it always startled Gakuto when he did that. “You're right, but you're the team problem child right now.”

“Fuck off.”

“You and your friend Oshitari both love saying that to me, something you have in common.”

“Pretty sure Shishido says that to you like once a week.”

Atobe laughed again. “Does he? I never noticed.”

Gakuto couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. He looked over and Atobe had a casual smirk, totally unbothered and content, like everything in his life was going according to his plans. Gakuto had to laugh for real, _poor Shishido._ Atobe glanced at him with a little grin before staring back ahead while they ran. It was some time before he said anything else.

“He's sensitive, Gakuto. You'll need to fix it, it’s affecting the team.” 

He wasn't talking about Shishido. Gakuto scoffed and skipped instead of running, flabbergasted. He turned to run backwards and made a face. “Sensitive!? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

Atobe stopped smiling. “I won't repeat myself. Enjoy the rest of your laps.” He left Gakuto to rejoin practice. As annoyed with Atobe as he now was, Gakuto missed the company immediately. He was left alone with his thoughts–how the fuck he was going to fix things with his “sensitive” friend? A hint would have been nice.

Gakuto couldn’t help but be curious about Yuushi really saying such a thing as ‘fuck off’ to Atobe. He could imagine him mumbling it in his breathy way, a way nobody but Atobe would have heard and almost smiled at the thought, if he wasn’t so fucking mad.

Yuushi was _sensitive_. Gakuto rolled his eyes at the word, repeating it in his head. What crap. _What the fuck would Atobe know? I know him better than anyone. _Gakuto ran harder, more out of puzzled frustration than anger. At least his stamina was improving.


End file.
